


Quite the Show

by Sassywolf23



Series: The Logan Chronicles [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassywolf23/pseuds/Sassywolf23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela wants a show; Hawke obliges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite the Show

**Author's Note:**

> So, typical disclaimer applies: I don't own anything here, Bioware does. 
> 
> Special thanks to Enchant for looking over my story and helping with editing!

_“You can get your thrills in Hightown, if you know where to look.” ~_ Hawke, Dragon Age 2

**Quite the Show**

He’d encouraged this, Isabela thought, looking down at him as she threw her blade across the room. Not that she’d really needed _that_ much encouraging, of course.

 She straddled him, grabbing both of his hands and holding them over his head. The shock in his expression gave her a brief giggle before she leaned down and captured his mouth in a steaming kiss.

 They stayed like that for a while, tongues battling for dominance. They came up for air and stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time.

 Logan was still shell-shocked, of course, and his blue eyes had a glazed look to them. His flame red hair was messier than usual, after Isabela had gotten her free hand into it.

 He wasn’t a virgin by any means; he just wasn’t used to having control taken from him. And Isabela was so tiny…

 She chuckled. “You promised me a show, sweet thing,” she murmured against his ear, lightly running her tongue over the tip, leaving him to arch his head back.

 They were both still clothed, and the friction was getting to him. He pulled his hands away from hers, settling them on her hips and twisting her so that she was on her back, and began peeling away her corset. She moaned as she was released, and quickly set to work untying his house robes, holding onto his tie.

 He pulled away, watching her warily. Her gaze was far too predatory and there was a gleam in her dark eyes that he knew didn’t bode well for him.

 “Isabela,” he warned, “whatever’s going on in your head… forget about it.”

 She grinned. “Why, sweetness, don’t you trust me?” she purred, pushing herself off of the bed where she had been resting and walking up to him. He started backing away, and stumbled against the back of his desk chair, which gave Isabela just enough time to wrap his house tie around his wrists in a loose knot.

 He gaped at his hands and then looked back at her. His eyes flashed and before she had a chance to brace herself, he’d yanked his wrists so that she lost _her_ balance and landed against his well muscled chest.

 “You sure you want to play this game, ‘Bela?” he asked softly against her ear, causing her to shudder as his warm breath landed on her neck. “I can play rough too.”

 And with that last threat hanging in the air, he pulled himself out of his chair and onto the bed, with her underneath him.

 He pulled the loosely knotted tie off of his hands, and looked thoughtfully down at her. “It seems a waste to not use this,” he mused and delighted in the shudder that spread through her at his expression.

 “Please, Hawke,” she whimpered, attempting to spread her legs but he had her effectively trapped against him.

 “Ah, ah, pet, you asked for a show. I’m giving it to you,” he said, slapping a hard palm against her exposed thigh, and sending a pleasurable jolt through her.

 She moaned as her skin started tingling from the strength of his palm. He grinned briefly. Then, having apparently made up his mind, grabbed her thin wrists and wrapped his tie around both them and his bedpost, making sure that she had enough slack so that she wasn’t injuring herself, but not enough that she could get loose.

 Once that was done, Hawke took a step back to admire his handiwork. She was now standing with her feet just barely on the floor, and her luscious ass, still covered in her smalls, was facing him.

 She glared over her shoulder at him. “This is _not_ what I had in mind, Logan,” she grumbled.

 “You know, pet, I tire of your attitude,” Hawke warned, glancing briefly at her smalls, where a small dark spot had appeared. He cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoyed that, did you?”

 Isabela quickly snapped her mouth shut, but couldn’t hold her tongue for long. “Are you planning on doing something sometime tonight?” she complained in a low growl.

 “Those are fighting words, my dear,” Hawke replied quietly, running a practiced hand over her ass in a teasing manner. Then before she could get accustomed to it, he landed a blow to her cloth-covered derriere. She jerked in surprise and a mewl escaped her lips.

 “That’s what I want to hear,” Hawke said, a pleased tone in his voice. He changed positions, and landed a harder blow to that side as well, getting into a rhythm that worked for him.

 Isabela never knew for sure when the next blow would land, so that when they did, she felt her body respond quickly and warmly. She hated that her own body was betraying her, but at the same time was pleased. She’d made the right choice in sleeping with him.

 Hawke changed his pace, having noticed that Isabela’s mind was elsewhere. He leaned around and gripped her chin so that she looked at him. Her eyes were glazed from arousal and confusion.

 “Are you okay?” he asked in concern. She looked into his eyes, shaken by his question.

 “Yes,” she replied, her tongue thick and not wanting to cooperate with her.  

 He chuckled, hugging her to him and releasing her hands, rubbing them so that her circulation began flowing again. Then he placed her gently on the bed, peeling away what remained of her clothing.

 She protested, suddenly missing his warmth. She didn’t understand herself. This wasn’t her. She frowned, watching as he started wandering around the room, apparently looking for something.

 "Aha!” he exclaimed, “I knew it was still in here somewhere.” And as he backed out of his closet, he also dragged… a mirror.

 Isabela cocked an eyebrow. “What do you want that for?” she asked, against her better judgment. Knowing him, it was probably an evil plan and also not very well thought out.

 He had the grace to blush. “Just something I’ve wanted to do for a while,” he said, walking around the explanation.

 Isabela shook her head. “You are full of surprises, Hawke,” she said. “But then, it is said that it’s always the quiet ones you need to watch out for.”

 Hawke chuckled.

 He lifted the mirror, making sure that the stand still worked properly (it had been in a closet, after all). Once he had it where he wanted it, he looked back at Isabela.

 She was still where he had placed her, too tired from the endorphins flooding her system to move.

 Her eyes narrowed at the expression on his face as he walked closer to her, but before she had a chance to comment, he’d already rearranged her to his satisfaction.

 “Now, my pet, I want you to stare at the mirror. And no looking away or I’ll punish you.”

 Her eyes widened as she realized what he wanted to do. He climbed up on the bed near her weeping opening. From her vantage point on the bed, she could see him in the mirror in front of her.

 He settled down, putting his lips to work. As he ran his tongue over her slit, she arched her hips uncontrollably. He chuckled and his breath bathed her. “Watch yourself in that mirror. Look at what a slut you really are.”

 The normally reserved rogue was showing a side that Isabela hadn’t been aware of. She found she liked it. She lifted her hips again in invitation, but he placed a restraining hand on her thigh. 

 It was long moments, as Bela stared into that mirror, before he did anything more. Instead, he ran his fingers over her flesh, under her buttocks, moving them near her weeping slit, but not near enough to touch.

 She trembled with the effort to stay still, willing him to touch her where she desperately wanted to be touched.

 He settled his mouth over her tiny pearl of nerves, flicking his tongue over it, teasing her.

 He hadn’t said anything to her about being quiet, so she did what was unnatural for her: she begged.

 “Hawke, please, fuck me!”

 He looked up. “But aren’t you having fun?” he asked innocently, placing a finger into her slit, pulling it out coated with her essence. “You asked for a show, didn’t you, pet? Does this not meet your expectations?”

 She rolled her eyes back, attempted to keep herself from hitting her peak, a difficult task when his thumb kept hitting her bundle of nerves and sending pleasurable jolts through her. By this point she wasn’t watching the mirror; she was wrapping her legs around him, begging him with both her words and her body to get a move on.

 He got the point, quickly coating himself with her, and sheathed himself in her warm, willing body. They both cried out at the sensations rocking through them; her at the sudden crest as he slid in at just the right angle; him at how hot and wet she was.

 She’d pulled herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck, steadying herself. They hit a rhythm, and she dropped her head into the crook of his neck, biting him in an effort to choke the sounds that she was making. He groaned, scoring her back with his nails.

 They hit their climax together. And the loud shouts that they gave were both guttural and primal, a reminder that they were engaging in an act at the most basic level.

 When they were finally able to catch their breath, they’d collapsed on the bed in a tiny pile of sweat and sex.

 Isabela looked up at him, wiping her damp hair out of her eyes.

 “I’m impressed,” she said, her voice a deeper husk now that she’d gotten her release. “That was _quite_ the show.”

 She winked at him and Hawke gave a short burst of laughter.

 “There’s more where that came from, pet. Trust me on that.”

 

 


End file.
